


An Agent of Time

by Peapods



Category: Doctor Who, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crossover, Fix-It, M/M, Time Lords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peapods/pseuds/Peapods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something not quite of-this-Earth about Agent Phil Coulson and it has nothing to do with his ability to incapacitate three top SHIELD agents with a scarf, a package of powdered doughnuts, and a laser pointer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Agent of Time

Fifteen years ago, a young Phil Coulson had come across his radar. He hadn’t been Director then, but his superiors were aging rapidly. The men and women who had once shook the Earth with ideas of the future no longer understood the future. He knew it was only a matter of time until he was promoted and he wanted to make sure his team was one he could count on to combat all threats and to see all futures.

Coulson had been an unassuming man in a suit who had casually taken on three of his best agents in broad daylight with a scarf, a package of powdered donuts, and a laser pointer. And he had won, handily.

“Impressive,” Nick noted, nudging Agent Gomez out of the way.

“I take exception to being assaulted without permission,” the other man noted mildly. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“You can tell me why you just tried to walk off with something that belongs to my organization,” Nick said, nodding to the weapon that was strapped to the man’s back, unused.

“There’s some dispute over what is yours, I’m afraid. This most certainly is not.”

“Whom, may I ask, is disputing?” Nick asked.

“I’m the Agent.”

“Agent who?”

“Just the Agent,” Agent said. “This weapon was banned on all planets by the Shadow Proclamation.”

“I’ve not heard of that particular law,” Nick said, already assessing the Agent for a point of attack.

“I’d rethink that strategy,” the Agent said. “I am very well trained.”

Fuck, a mind reader too.

“Look, Agent, some people are going to be very unhappy if I don’t bring that gun back. It’s no skin off my back, but I would like to actually keep my job,” Nick said, affecting a put-upon attitude.

“I don’t think the man first in line to take over his organization needs to worry about keeping his job,” Agent said. He pulled out what looked like a small calculator and hit a button. Behind him, a 1964 Aston Martin shimmered into view. “But, I’ll do you a favor. Come with me. You can see what happens to the gun. You can see the universe if you want. And I’ll have you back in time for your next debriefing.”

“The fuck?” Nick finally asked.

“Time Lord,” Agent said, mouth quirking up into what would become a very familiar smile.

*****

Agent Phil Coulson was not so different from the Agent. He still had a razor sharp mind and physical aptitude, but that sense of otherworldliness was gone. He was just a human, a rather extraordinary one, but with a definite cloak of age and gravity. Creating his identity took no time at all. Fury, after his promotion, had rather a lot of clout with the US government and they did not hesitate to issue all the documents the Agent would need to survive.

He saw no point in leaving the Agent-- _Phil_ \--to the tender mercies of the lower level agents and immediately instituted him at Level 5 clearance. He passed his field tests with flying colors, his body remembering even if his mind didn't. Once the juniors saw how Phil worked, they stopped complaining. Soon enough, only months after his fall from grace, junior agents were going to him with problems, with concerns, and occasionally, with coffee.

And then, Phil Coulson found Clint Barton.

*****

"He's a carnie," Fury said.

"Former carnie," Phil corrected, mildly.

"Current criminal."

"He's young and impressionable."

Fury stared at Phil who didn't even flinch.

"He has very good aim. And a good mind."

"And you can tell the latter, how?"

"Because I'm fairly certain he's known we've been following him for the past month."

Fury sat forward, his chair thumping to the ground, and fixed his eye on his agent. "I'm only hearing this now, why?"

"I wanted to be sure. I know what desperation looks like. He's ready to come in, boss."

The thing about Phil was while no longer a Time Lord, little things seeped through. Fury suspected that the look on the Agent's face when he had shown up on Earth's doorstep after the war was the same one on Barton's face. Something in Phil had seen something in Barton that he recognized.

"Bring him in. But if this blows up in our faces--"

"It's on me. Got it, boss."

*****

Barton was just as much trouble as Fury had thought he'd be. But damn, the boy could shoot. More than that, he could _see_. He called Coulson his one good eye, but with Barton backing him up, the entire world fell under their gaze.

Their success rate was through the roof. Had it not been, Fury would have thrown Barton out on his ass months ago. The man had a smart mouth that wouldn't quit.

"The eyepatch is full of secrets," he told the junior agents.

"I don't hang out in the vents, dude, they're a portal to Narnia. Duh." The fact that Barton had never picked up a book on his own escaped those agents. He and Coulson immediately sent those agents to basic training.

Whatever formal education Barton was missing from his background, he made up for with sheer tactical genius. As he kept saying, ad nauseum, to the extreme annoyance of some, "I see better from a distance." His distance allowed him to see things others didn't. He saw Nick, not Director Fury. He saw Phil, not the Agent’s Agent. And beneath the Widow, he saw Natasha.

Nick overheard a conversation between the two one late night.

“So, Coulson,” Romanoff started. “He’s a little...”

“Not of this Earth?” Barton finished.

Romanoff was silent in agreement. “Very few men have looked at me and seen a person, not a weapon or a toy.”

“Coulson will only ever see you, Tasha, not what you can do.”

*****

“I understand your concerns,” Nick said, trying to remain as calm as possible.

“I don’t think you do,” Phil said, as agitated as Nick had ever seen him. “The kind of power in his possession, the wanton disregard for--for _everything_ \--”

“Do I need to remove you from this mission, Agent?” Nick asked, finally pulling rank. He knew why Phil was upset. It was bleed-through, again. Nick had only met the Daleks, but the Agent had told him all about the Cybermen as well. Very few things terrified the Agent, but humanity destroyed by machinery most definitely topped the list.

Phil visibly calmed himself. “No, sir. I only question the wisdom of leaving such technology in the hands of a man who is more ego than anything else.”

Nick looked at the tension in his agent’s body. “Go spend some time with Stark. Talk to him. Report back to me. Then we’ll see if he’s the threat you think he is.”

Something clicked in Phil’s jaw, but he nodded and left the office, eight hundred dollar suit flapping in the wake of his frustration.

*****

“I had misgivings about even telling you.”

Phil gives him a betrayed look.

“Seriously, this isn’t Sleeping Beauty, you don’t get to kiss the prince and make him wake up.”

Phil’s look turned to one of disapproval.

“Don’t give me some tired excuse about not kissing national icons. I know you.”

And now he was pouting.

“Did I mention how fucking glad I am you got bronchitis right before the big moment?”

Phil’s middle finger went up.

*****

He knew it was New Mexico and he knew assigning them both to the op was asking for trouble. He’d watched Barton and Phil dance around each other for goddamn years, never coming quite close enough to spark whatever the fuck it was between them.

He’d also watched Phil grow tired and, at times, confused. The Agent hadn’t given Nick any clue how his mind-fuck mojo worked, but now he worried that whatever had been done to him had been a stop-gap. Not meant to last. He needed something, or someone, to ground him. If it had to be Clint fucking Barton, so be it.

And, as they got themselves a Norse god out of the whole deal, Nick was willing to overlook the whole fraternization thing.

*****

His best friend was bleeding out before his eyes. The medical team had arrived and he had made the announcement. But there was one more thing, one last ditch effort he could make. He knelt again. The medics were working hard, getting a spotty pulse and no reaction. Fury reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a silvered pocket watch, etched with circles and lines that meant nothing to him and everything to the man laying before him. He held open Phil’s eyes, hoping, praying, and clicked open the watch.

Nothing happened. The medics kept working, stemming blood flow and getting in some of the new tech that would bind up the inner wounds enough to allow surgery, but it wouldn’t be enough.

He sighed and began to pull away.

“Holy shit!” one of the medics cried. Nick looked back. Golden energy was pouring out of the watch and into Phil. One of the medics tried to wrest the watch away, but Nick simply pushed him away with his other hand. Phil’s unseeing eyes seemed to draw in the energy.

A moment later, his eyes slammed shut and a scream of agony ripped from his throat. Nick dropped the watch and held him down as Phil’s body tried to bow under the weight of his transformation.

“What’s happening?” the other medic cried. Nick didn’t answer the question.

“We need to get him to medical, now. Whatever you do, you have to keep his other heart going.”

“His other hear--”

“Did I fucking stutter?” Nick yelled. “Medical! Now!”

*****

The Agent startled awake. His sense of time was unbelievably off kilter. He calmed himself and took in the universe with quiet meditation. May 6th. 2012. Earth. He opened his eyes.

Nick Fury’s one eye stared back into them.

*****

With his Time Lordiness restored, his relationship with Clint reaffirmed and all the stronger, and his position at SHIELD assured, Phil (as he preferred to be addressed now) turned his attention to the last concern on his list since his near-death/near-regeneration experience.

On his way home one evening, he turned onto a nearby street and stopped, leaning against the wall. A moment later, a rather harried looking young man with thick dark hair and a bow tie appeared.

"Looking for me, I presume," Phil said, catching the other man's attention. He stared at Phil with something like shock.

"It's not possible."

"I assure you, it is," Phil said, pulling out the pocket watch he now carried as a reminder.

"You were hiding here all this time?"

"My boss was a bit concerned about restoring me when, at the time of my transformation, I was covered in soot and gore, and could barely speak in coherent sentences."

"You're the Agent," the man said, his voice both reverent and disgusted. Phil bowed his head in acknowledgment. During the Time War he had been a favorite of many generals. His blandly ruthless nature, so unlike the generally bombastic nature of this Time Lord and many others, had frightened his superiors, but they, like Nick, had recognized his usefulness--and his willingness to die for a cause. He had believed in their cause for a long time before he realized that the “higher causes” both sides fought for were nothing more than greed and power.

"They turned to me, after you'd gone. I only had one solution."

Pain blossomed in Phil's chest as he thought of their lost home, their friends and families.

"Then you were a braver man than I, Doctor. I knew what had to be done and I couldn't do it."

"So, are you stranded here, then? I've got a TARDIS myself. You should come along," he looked quite pleased with his suggestion.

Phil shook his head. "I'm good here."

The Doctor, who had regained some equilibrium, now regarded him somberly. "It's not... the smartest idea to live amongst humans as a Time Lord, Agent."

"I do alright," Phil shrugged, but the Doctor looked unconvinced.

"Please, come with me. We don't belong here. Not for more than a visit."

Phil gave him a small smile. "I should warn you that since your first request that I accompany you, an arrow has been aimed at your head."

The Doctor whirled around, alarmed. But Phil just stood there. "You won't see him. But he can definitely see you. And I can tell you he would take extreme exception to my leaving, voluntary or not.”

"He's not the only one," said a distorted voice as Iron Man landed behind the Doctor.

"Agent Coulson isn't the only one who doesn't quite fit in," Captain America said, laying a hand on Phil's shoulder. Phil’s face heated without his consent.

"He is not the only one who is an adopted son of this realm," Thor said, emerging on Captain America's other side.

"There are more dangerous things in the world," said Bruce, hanging back, shoulders hunched.

A female voice from above said, "I'm one of them."

A person dropped down in front of Phil, shorter than the Doctor, but somehow more intimidating than the other superheroes that were gathered around him. He didn't say anything and the Doctor was definitely eyeing the bow clenched in one hand with trepidation.

"I'm one of them too. He belongs with me," Clint said. "And I take extreme exception to the idea that Phil is a danger to any of us."

The Doctor looked so sad at that, but not like he thought Phil and his defenders were deluded and misguided. Rather, he looked as though he were envious of Phil’s defenders. Or, Phil thought guiltily, perhaps he was simply lonely and sad to find that not even the last of his kind wanted to give him the time of day.

“Clint,” Phil said softly, pressing a hand to a tensed bicep. Clint half-turned, face softening. “Give us a moment, please.”

Clint turned a look back onto the Doctor before nodding and stepping away, gesturing for the others to follow. Phil stepped up to the Doctor.

“As you’ve seen, I have a life here, Doctor. A good one.” He took a chance and gripped the Doctor’s arm. “Don’t let what happened, what has happened since, keep you from finding a family. You are always welcome here.” He looked into the Doctor’s eyes, brightened by tears, and allowed himself a rare smile. “I very much doubt you can stay away.”

*****

As the Doctor’s TARDIS disappeared, Phil turned to the one person who hadn’t felt the need to threaten.

“Awfully sure of yourself there.”

“Like you could walk away from all this,” Nick said, gesturing to his body.

Phil laughed and then sobered, looking back to the spot where the TARDIS had disappeared. “What if he was right?” he asked quietly, voicing a fear that had dogged him since he awoke. “What if we can’t live with humans? What if we can only destroy?”

He heard a snort and looked over at Nick, who was rolling his eye. “Shut the fuck up,” he said, grabbing Phil around the neck and steering him away. “Come on, I’ll buy you a doughnut.”

**Author's Note:**

> Added 1/29/15: Sorry sorry SORRY for not responding to comments until recently. And doing it all in one day. I have so much appreciated every comment and kudos over the past... couple years, and I love you all for leaving them.


End file.
